


On the Ground

by Ango_Isqua



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Minor Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, POV Bellamy Blake, POV Lexa (The 100), POV Roan (The 100), Triple Drabble, Wanheda Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ango_Isqua/pseuds/Ango_Isqua
Summary: Clarke was slightly ahead, rushing toward the tree, when Bellamy felt the ground shift and drop.***Bellamy looked down at the boy in front of him. The kid was no more than seventeen, none of them were, and he was begging for death.***Roan observed the girl before him. So this was Wanheda; the Commander of Death.***Lexa waits in her tent for the justice to begin. She can sense the eyes if Skaikru on her army, and can hear the muttering of her soldiers outside.***A couple of short pieces I wrote, and figured I'd group together.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add tags and chapters as they come. Please leave comments, kudos, etc. I love hearing from everyone!

Clarke was slightly ahead, rushing toward the tree, when Bellamy felt the ground shift and drop. She didn’t scream. He didn’t think - simply reached out and caught her wrist. Their eyes locked as she clung desperately to his sleeve, and Bellmay watched her gaze flick quickly to his hand. He was debating it; dropping her into the spikes, he could admit that to himself, but before he could force himself to uncurl his fingers from her forearm the others were pulling them up onto solid ground. One more assessing look was shared between the two before they both looked away.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy looked down at the boy in front of him. The kid was no more than seventeen, none of them were, and he was begging for death. The knife was heavy in his hand as he knelt in the grass, the sweet smell of fresh air still overwhelming, even after a few days. He felt, rather than heard, her enter the clearing and turned his head slightly to watch her approach. She knelt in the moss across from him looking at Atom lying between them.

“I heard screams.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, but Bellamy answered anyway.

“Charlotte found him. I sent her back to camp.” He shook his head, and tried to keep the indecision off his face. Atom continued to writhe on the ground, and Clarke looked him up and down slowly. She looked him in the eye. The slight shake of her head only confirmed what Bellamy already knew; there was no saving the boy. He gave a tight nod, more to himself than her, but the clench of his jaw revealed the truth. He wasn’t ready, he wasn't ready to kill the boy in front of him and watch him bleed out into the soft green moss. He heard Clarke take a deep breath as she leaned over Atom.

“Okay.” Her voice was breathy, but not weak. “I’m gonna help you, alright?” She caressed the side of his head gently, ran her fingers through his hair, and began humming brokenly. Bellamy watched, frozen, as she pulled the knife from his weak grip and slid it into Atom’s neck. It was quick. She did not hesitate, and she did not stop humming. Humming that lullaby he knew but couldn’t place. She pulled out the knife, still humming, and he watched as she brushed the boy’s cheek one last time.

By the time Finn and Wells had caught up Clarke had cleaned the blade and handed it back to Bellamy. She did not say anything. She didn’t even look at him, but he couldn’t help but feel she was judging him. Had he not just told her today that she wasn’t able to make the hard choices? Well here they were, after she had calmly taken that boy's blood onto her hands as if Bellamy’s weren’t already dirty. He was grateful though, and more grateful when the others did enter the little clearing.

“What happened?” It was Finn. His voice grated on Bellamy, his uncaring thoughtless tone, and the way he made everything into a joke. Clarke didn’t seem to notice.

“Atom got caught in the acid fog, we’re gonna need to rig up a stretcher to bring his body back to camp.” She didn’t lie, but she didn’t mention what she’d done. She didn’t mention what he _hadn’t_ done, and neither of the other boys questioned it. Bellamy didn’t know how she knew the boy’s name. He rather suspected she knew all their names, although when she would have had the time to learn them he didn’t know.

They rigged up a stretcher, covered Atom’s face with his jacked, and carried him back to camp. As soon as they got within the range of the firelight Clarke stalked off toward the dropship with Finn, calling for supplies as she went. Bellamy nodded to one of the kids who had been sitting around the fire.

“Get her whatever she needs.” She had earned that. She had killed that boy in the woods, killed him with mercy and kindness, killed him with strength. Bellamy was grateful, even as the anger at his own weakness curled in his gut. He ordered the kid to help Clarke, and when Murphy made the jab at Octavia he lashed out. He needed to be strong. My sister, my responsibility.


	3. Chapter 3

Roan looked at the girl tied up before him. So this was Wanheda; The Commander of Death.

“How are _you_ Wanheda, when you could not kill me? When you could not kill just one man?” The girl glared at him, and spat at his feet.

“They do not call me Wanheda, the Commander of Death, because I killed one man. They do not call me Wanheda, the Commander of Death, because I killed a hundred men. They do not call me Wanheda, the Commander of Death, because I killed a hundred warriors, or a thousand. They call me Wanheda, the Commander of Death, because I killed a hundred men, a hundred women, a hundred children, a hundred innocents, a hundred friends.” She held his gaze as she spoke, unwavering, uncowed. “Your queen thinks she can kill me, thinks she can take the strength of Wanheda, but there is nothing to gain but the weight of my shame. What I did was not honorable. _Death_ is not honorable. Those deaths - were not honorable. I bear the name Wanheda for my people. I bear this shame for my people. I would do it again for my people, but do not think that there is strength to be gained from my death. Your people thank me. They thank me for ending the reaping, and I do not tell them that the enemy I destroyed was eating and playing and resting. I do not tell them the cost nor the consequence because I am Wanheda, the Commander of Death, and the name and the act are my burden to bear.” She did not drop her eyes, and neither did Roan. “They call me Wanheda, the Commander of Death, because the blood that soaks my hands is dirty, and it spreads to those I touch.”


	4. Chapter 4

Lexa waits in her tent for the justice to begin. She can sense the eyes of Skaikru on her army, and can hear the muttering of her soldiers outside. There comes a shifting of feet and weapons, and suddenly she hears a voice. 

“I’m here to talk to your commander.” It’s Clarke. Lexa sighes, she could not save this boy, even if she wanted to. There is nothing more to say. “Let me through.” She clenches her fist, and strides out of the tent. 

“Let her pass.” She can see the spot of blood on Clarke’s shirt. “You bleed for nothing. You cannot stop this.” Clarke looks her in the eye.

“No. Only you can.” Clarke’s eyes are pleading, but there is no changing this now. Nothing to be done to save the murderer. She watches Clarke’s face as the boy is brought out, and listens as she makes desperate attempts to save his life. “Show my people how powerful you are. Show them you can be merciful. Show them you aren’t a savage.” Lexa knows the look on Clarke’s face, recognises it from her own, but her love will not sway the army. She steels her gaze. 

“We are what we are.” Clarke watches as they tie the boy to the post, and turns back to Lexa the urgency clear on her features and in her voice.

“Then I’m a killer. I burned three hundred of your people. I slit a man’s throat and watched him die. I’m soaked in grounder blood. Take me.” The plea falls from Clarke’s lips and it is all Lexa can do not to reach out to her. To comfort her. Instead she makes her voice unforgiving.

“But Finn is guilty.”

“No! He did it for me.” Clarke’s expression breaks, and her voice cracks. “He did it for me.” Lexa does not allow the soft brokenness of her words to pierce the stone she’d made her heart. 

“Then he dies for you.” Lexa watches as Clarke’s eyes drop. Her gaze follows, but whatever the girl is looking for is not for her to see. She observes as Clarke stares at where Finn is bound, and evaluates the indecision on her face. When Clarke looks back her eyes are hard, and her voice is quiet but strong.

“Can I say goodbye?” Lexa feels the waiting eyes of her warriors on her, but she lowers her gaze in acquiescence. Clarke turns away without another word, and walks slowly to the boy. She rushes the last few steps and kisses Finn with all the finality of a broken heart. Lexa can hear her whisper carried on the wind. “I love you too.” 

“I’m scared.” Finn’s voice is wavering, and Lexa hears the tears clearly in both their tones. Clarke hugs him, holds him close, and Lexa can no longer make out what they say to each other, but she watches as Finn’s head drops slowly to Clarke’s shoulder. When the girl pulls away, and his head drops further, Lexa doesn’t need to see the growing stain on his shirt or the bloody knife in Clarke’s hand to know what has happened. She holds back her army as they try to rush forward, but Clarke seems unaware of the tension as tears stream down her face. 

All at once a scream breaks through the night. It travels across the field between the two peoples, and though Lexa does not know from whom it comes Clarke does, and her head droops with the weight of its curse. 

***

Bellamy watches as Clarke approaches the opposing army. He watches as she speaks to the Commander, and knows without hearing that there is nothing to be done. Clarke does not take Raven’s blade and strike down Lexa, but she does turn toward Finn. All of the camp watches from just behind the fence as they kiss. As Clarke wraps Finn in her arms. They watch as his head drops to her shoulder, and she pulls away. It takes a moment, but the yell that comes up from the grounders confirms what Bellamy suspected. He hears Abby gasp a little, but before anyone else can react Raven is screaming. She drops to the ground, and Bellamy tries his best to hold her up but is only moments away from collapsing himself. Not for Finn, but for Clarke whose tears he doesn’t need to see to know they’re there, and who’s heart is breaking into even more pieces than Raven’s. She’s so young. He thinks back to that day in the woods when the sun sparked on the blood that she kept from his hands. Hers keep getting darker, and with every life she adds he can see the shadows grow in her eyes. He hopes she finds a way to wash them clean. To let the blood flow downstream with her regrets and her pain. He hasn’t, but he hopes she does. The burdens she has taken on are not light ones, and this is one he cannot help to carry. 


End file.
